


What Happens In Scotland...

by TheRoyalPrussianArmy



Series: Kelpielock [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Human John, Johnlock but more blink and you'll miss it, Kelpies, M/M, Misuse of Scottish lore, Scotland, kelpie Sherlock, kelpielock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3812242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoyalPrussianArmy/pseuds/TheRoyalPrussianArmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing happens to John Watson. There is nothing for him in London, and he's only getting worse. When his therapist advises him to take a trip to an old family home, John discovers that life isn't what he thought it was as well as a reason for living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens In Scotland...

**Author's Note:**

> ...stays in Scotland.
> 
> Prompt:
> 
> Sherlock would be the deadliest of all deady water horses, like, literally none of the other water horses would go anywhere near him and they all talk about how terrible he is.
> 
> And then John would need to go there for whatever reason and Sherlock would deduce the flip out of him and he’d be all ‘fantastic’ and discover that Sherlock is not actually that deadly.
> 
> (Then rumours would go around that John was being held captive by Sherlock the deadly kelpie.)
> 
> \--
> 
> AKA: I saw what I liked so I went ahead and wrote it.
> 
> \--  
> Warnings for:
> 
> Misuse of Scottish Lore  
> Beating dead horses  
> (You'll understand)

Nothing happens to John Watson.

-

John Watson was an invalid.

That much he knew. That much was obvious. Here is what else he knew:

John Watson needed a cane to walk.

John Watson had a psychosomatic limp.

John Watson met with his therapist every Monday and Friday, and a physical therapist two to three times a month.

John knew a lot, and had been making lists. He needed some way to keep himself sane in the every day tedium. Lists were the safest. He had to know, had to keep his lists neat and orderly, just like the rest of his life. If his life was orderly, nothing could blow it to shreds. No more bullets, he said, no more action. From now on John Watson was going to be as plain as his name. But this was what else John knew-

John Watson is slowly going insane from the dullness of every day life.

-

Ella said he needed something to do. She suggested a blog to write about what happened to him. Inside his head John laughed. Nothing ever happened to him.

-

Ella suggested time out of London. ‘Time to find yourself,’ was what she said aloud. ‘Time to give me a vacation,’ was what she meant.

John was not improving. There was nothing to improve upon. He was damaged at best, destroyed at worst. He had nightmares and panic attacks in the middle of Tesco. He couldn’t walk down the street without looking for snipers, checking for insurgents, making sure nobody was carrying. He couldn’t bear to be touched because it was automatically bad, something he had to defend against.

'You need a change of scenery, John.’ She told him. 'You need time to find yourself. Maybe visit a family home, or simply out of the city. Write about what happens to you when you leave.’

'Nothing ever happens to me.’ Is what he should have said.

'Yes, of course. Probably a good idea, a change of scenery.’ Is what he did say.

-

The Watson’s were Scottish, so John did as Ella suggested and visited his family home. Great-great-grandpa Watson had bought himself a drafty old castle surrounded by marshes. Great Grandpa Watson had made it less drafty, cleared out old garbage, and filled in some of the marshes. He had dug out a lot of horse skeletons on the process. Grandpa Watson had filled in more of them before he had left it in the hands of his brother and moved to London. Great Uncle Watson had replaced the marshes before having a nervous breakdown, rambling about skeletal horses and a beautiful young man. Hamish Watson had never stepped foot in the family home.

John Watson wasn’t sure why, but walking up the pathway he was certain there were eyes on him.

-

'Nothing ever happens to me,’ He wrote in his blog. 'The locals are nice, if not superstitious. They talk about ghosts and demons inhabiting the land. They say everyone to live where I do is crazy. They told me that my great uncle went mad because of the demons. If so they must have all moved out. Nothing ever happens to me.’

Harry makes a comment that John is whining. Bill Murray (but not that Bill Murray) says John should call him so they can catch up. Mike asks if he can come up for a visit and show him around.

John says yes, because nothing ever happens to him.

-

John stops making lists. There are no lists to make in Scotland.

-

Something is happening to John. Mike has left, but not before introducing John to the local-locals. They are spirits, like the townsfolk said, but not like John expected. They are horses, hideous in the water but glorious beasts out of it. Mike has made them all promise not to kill John. John almost wishes they would. All of them remain near their own bodies of water and snap at others who get too close. Their faces are skeletons, skin and muscle and sinew long rotted off. They leave John alone. Sometimes they transform into beautiful humans.

And still, nothing happens to John Watson.

-

There is chatter among the creatures, the kelpies as he has come to find out they are called. They talk about one of them, far into the marsh away from the castle. He resides in the largest piece of water and has been attacking other kelpies and trying to kill them. That is what John hears.

'The locals are talking about a rather dangerous hermit. They say he is dangerous, at least. If they say he is I assume so.’ Is what he writes.

'He’s killed at least twenty of us,’ one kelpie says to John.

'He eats us and takes our land.’ Says another as it sinks into its resting area, shivering despite being unable to feel the cold. The sight of its skeleton form below the water does not bother John. Instead he shrugs and continues to town.

'They say he attacks others in the night and takes from their homes. They say he’s dangerous and will assault anyone who comes too close. They warn me to stay away because he is dangerous. They say he doesn’t follow the rules.’ Is what he writes.

Harry asks him who these locals are, and if he’s found a girlfriend. Bill Murray says that John should be careful, but if he can hold off a group of thirty insurgents while stitching up five men he can handle anything. Mike says that John should listen to the locals because they know what they’re talking about.

Nothing ever happens to John Watson.

-

Something has happened to John Watson.

-

Despite the warnings of the kelpies, John ventured into the marshy woods. He followed the path, ignoring the calls of concern and certain death he heard. He looked forward to it, if that was what it was to be for him. He marked his way on the trees, remembering to ask first and thank after. He didn’t want to get lost, after all, and these trees were not regular dead trees. Nothing on the land that his great-great-grandfather had bought was as it seemed.

-

The walk was long and by the end John was sweaty. 'If this is the end, I don’t mind.’ He thought. 'Nothing ever happens to me.’ He sat before the body of water they claimed the kelpie to be in. Nothing happened. He sat there for an hour, and the water never moved.

'Come out!’ John demanded. 'Come out, damn you! They say you’re a killer- if that’s so, then prove it. I am here! Where are you?’

There was no sound until-

'You think you are so eager to die, when all you wish to do is live once more.’

John turns around quickly- too quickly, it seems. He has not eaten since he left, only had a few sips of water. The man behind him catches him before he makes contact with the ground.

-

'From London,’ the man says, 'A doctor. An army doctor. You were shot. Invalided out and told to come to your roots by your therapist. A brother- drunkard, adulterer, liar.’ Is what the man says as he flips John’s phone in his hands. John can’t help but notice how long his fingers are, how sharp his cheekbones are, and how full his lips are. 'Bisexual, but you deny that for fear of backlash. A desire to be suicidal as an excuse, but you’re just bored. A retired army doctor who came to Scotland looking for adventure and found mythical creatures instead. An average man who made a deal with the devils of the marsh and is still bored.’ Is what the man says, catching John’s phone.

'Fantastic.’ Is what John says in return. The man blinks in surprise, a slight flush coming to his face.

'That’s not what they normally say.’ The man tells John, almost softly.

'What do they normally say?’ John asks, feeling as though this is part of a script. He feels as though his life was meant for this. All events have lead him to here.

Before him the man stands and his image shifts.

'Oh.’ John says.

-

'You were right.’ John tells the kelpie later. 'I am a doctor. Or, was. Nerve damage in my left arm, can’t hold a scalpel steady anymore. And Harry is a drunk, and a cheater. Lord knows Harry tries but, well.’ John shrugs.

'Spot on then,’ the kelpie says, pleased. 'I didn’t expect to get everything right.’

John smirks.

'Harry is short for Harriet.’

-

John is consistently warned by the other kelpies that he will be killed.

John consistently ignores them and goes to visit the most interesting thing in his life.

-

'Sherlock Holmes.’ The kelpie tells him. 'Consulting detective, when it’s possible.’

'I didn’t realize mythical creatures could hold jobs.’ John replies.

'I didn’t realize humans as dull as you could either.’ Sherlock remarks, and John laughs.

-

John has only seen Sherlock’s other form once.

'It’s practically useless.’ Is Sherlock’s excuse. 'I have sharper teeth and four legs. What is the point?’

Sherlock is like no other kelpie.

'I didn’t think kelpies had names.’ John remarks one day. Sherlock gives him a scathing look.

'I didn’t realize humans were so stupid.’ Is the return.

-

Buddy is the kelpie who lives closest to the house. John stops one day to talk with him. He’s a calm sort, nothing like the wild gray female farther up the walk.

'Dumped here by my owner,’ Buddy tells him when he asks. 'He got bored of me, of having to feed me. Hobbled me and tossed me in. I got him, though. His skull is a nice touch at the bottom.’ Buddy eyes John and then leers. 'You wanna see?’ He asks.

John realizes that day that none of the kelpies are what they seem.

-

Sherlock only scoffs when John asks about what he is doing in the marsh. He is flying around, nearly nude, and examining things in what John has come to consider his home. The drafts aren't so bad in the castle, it turns out.

'The past,’ Sherlock says, 'is best left in the past.’

John doesn’t ask about the skull that Sherlock keeps in plain view in the middle of the marsh. All he has ever gotten is 'a friend.’

He wonders if its the same type of friend Buddy had.

-

John learns from Buddy how the kelpies appear as they age after seeing a young one with barely any skin missing.

'He’s a baby,’ Buddy explains, 'only fifty years or so. The older we get the more skull appears.’ He points to the wild gray female who is weaving in her marsh, her coat frothing. 'She’s one of the oldest here, though there are far older around.’ They make it a sort of game; John guesses the age of the kelpies around him and Buddy laughs at how off he is.

'You’re a couple hundred.’ John tells him after Sherlock leaves one day. None of the kelpies show up when Sherlock is around.

'Three hundred and forty seven.’ Buddy answers. He never gives the same number though. John thinks he doesn’t want to talk about how long he’s been dead.

John doesn’t blame him.

-

'I met the hermit.’ John writes, a couple weeks after meeting Sherlock. He had been getting messages from Harry and Mike telling him to update his blog. Ella has been asking if he wants to Skype. 'He’s not so bad.’ John says. 'A little misunderstood. He has a short temper but he’s a genius. Helps solve crimes, when he can. He works outside the law. He’s amazing.’

Harry asks if he’s got a boyfriend. Bill says he’s happy that John is feeling better. Mike tells John to be careful. Ella asks when he would like to set up a Skype appointment.

John goes to visit Sherlock.

-

It’s almost two months after John meets Sherlock that he sees the other form. John has no doubt Sherlock would have kept it from him forever if he could. He couldn’t, though. Another kelpie had followed John on his way to visit Sherlock. John knew he was there, though he's not sure why. Half of the kelpies who live close to the castle think him mad to converse consistently with Sherlock. Half of them think that Sherlock has some sort of hold on John, is keeping him captive with a song or has messed with his mind. At this point John considers Sherlock a friend, though he’s not certain Sherlock feels the same. At least, not until he sees him rise from the water like a malevolent phantom to attack the intruder about to destroy John.

Sherlock is amazing.

Sherlock is almost completely bones.

-

Mycroft is Sherlock’s brother, much more reserved than he thought for someone related to Sherlock, and is the one to explain while Sherlock sulks below the surface, far out of John’s sight.

They were among the first horses brought to Scotland. They had been large and powerful, commanding and the best of their breed. Mycroft had been adored. Sherlock had been despised. Sherlock would allow none to ride him. He bucked and reared and attacked all who dared to try. He was tied tightly and thrown in first, accused of being the devil inhabiting the form of a horse. Assuming Mycroft to be the same despite having shown no intention (they came from the same dam, after all) Mycroft was tied and thrown in after.

They were the first of their kind.

-

John tells Sherlock he is astounding. 'Absolutely wonderful,’ are the words, 'So impressive and deadly. You don’t look it but you could kill me without a thought. You’re amazing.’ He says. 'Fantastic.’

'You do know you do that out loud.’ Sherlock says, preening.

John doesn’t stop.

-

Sherlock as a horse is breath taking. He is large and wide and black as the shadows. His hide practically glows when the sun hits it, and his eyes remain the same icy blue that John has come to know and love. His mane and tail are long and wavy. His tail reaches the ground and curls a few times. His mane reaches his knees, and his forelock goes almost all the way to his nose. When John touches him he is as soft as silk. Sherlock snorts in irritation and paws one hoof that has to be the size of John’s head. John has no second thoughts as he gets on Sherlock’s wide back and lets the kelpie take him where he chooses. When Sherlock heads for his home beneath the water, John doesn’t move at all.

-

Sherlock laughs in John’s face when he reads his earliest entries.

'Nothing happens to me,’ he mocks, 'my life is so boring. I had to go to Scotland and throw myself into the middle of an infestation of creatures who would kill me if they had the chance to feel alive again.’

Buddy snorts at Sherlock’s voice as he mimics John’s pitch. He and Cupcake, the barely-aged kelpie, are more comfortable with Sherlock than the rest, though that isn't to say they are completely comfortable. Sherlock is still the most deadly kelpie. The wild gray mare disappears when Sherlock is around.

John puts his arm around Sherlock’s waist.

'Nothing happened to me until I did that.’ He agrees. 'It’s possibly the best decision I’ve ever made.’

-

Sherlock doesn’t tell John about the skull and John doesn’t ask. All of the kelpies in his home have some sort of decoration from those who wronged them.

John fires Ella and makes the castle his permanent residence. He takes patients in the lower level and hires help. The kelpies keep their distance during business hours. If they don’t, Sherlock 'speaks’ to them.

-

Nothing happens to John Watson.

Nothing he doesn’t want to happen, that is.

**Author's Note:**

> As roseangelx, who gave me the prompt, said, "You gave me a prompt so I gave you a plot so you gave me a fic"
> 
> That is exactly what happened.
> 
> This took me about an hour and a half-ish to write on my phone. If you see any typos, please let me know. It's been a few years since I've written fic.


End file.
